


Too Close To The Sun

by WetSammyWinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - FBI, Alternate Universe - Hackers, Coercion, Gen, Human Lucifer, Hurt Sam Winchester, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Kidnapping, Protective Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-09 08:15:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5532239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WetSammyWinchester/pseuds/WetSammyWinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is a black hat hacker looking for social justice. Dean is a white hat hacker who works for the FBI. One mistake puts Sam under the power of a paramilitary organization headed by Luke Milton. Now, they must work together if they want to escape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my idea of how to modernize the story of Daedalus and Icarus. Brilliant family members put on lock down, forced to work for a evil man, and looking for escape from an inescapable situation. I'm a huge dork for Greek myths and the Winchester brothers.
> 
> Comments are always welcome!

Sam's face glowed in the dim light from a lamp next to his computer monitor as he typed a few more lines of code. A plate with crusts of his peanut butter sandwich from lunch sat on his left side, two empty cans of Red Bull on his right, while an X Files poster hung on the wall behind reminding him to TRUST NO ONE. Midnight snuck up on him again but he planned to push through until he cracked this last firewall.

An alert chimed on his computer followed by an instant message on the screen. U EAT DINNER 2NITE?

Sam snorted, ignoring the message and continuing to type. A second instant message popped up. STOP DRINKING THAT RED BULL CRAP SAM.

He rolled his eyes and clicked reply, typing YES MOM.

Even from a thousand miles away, Dean could be an unbearable mother hen but his brother was the one person who looked out for Sam.

U COMING FOR XMAS?

Sam looked at the blinking message on his screen for several seconds and worked his bottom lip with his teeth. He hadn't seen Dean in over a year and that wouldn't change soon.

He shut down the IM and returned to the screen for Redstone, a private military contractor working with the government. Recent Congressional hearings explored their potential involvement in political assassinations in the Middle East but there was no hard evidence. That was something Sam hoped to fix tonight. These Redstone bastards thought they could shape governments across the world at their own whim without input from the people that lived there. Looking at their red and white horse logo splayed on their website, Sam thought how it was always the worst form of fascists that wrapped themselves in the color of patriots.

Sam had broken through the log-in process and first set of firewalls hours before when his landlady, Mrs. Moss, brought him the sandwich. A sweet lady in her seventies, she worried about her young neighbor who spent long hours into the night on his computer. She was also the only one who had seen Sam in person for two days. Tonight, those long hours were paying off as he reached the final firewall which blocked access to their personnel and confidential mission files. The screen flipped from the garish logo to a black and green entry screen with a list of digital folders and files. He was in.

"Son of a bitch." Sam sat back in his chair and scrunched his nose, pulling his shoulder-length hair out of his eyes. Sam was good at what he did for his security clients and as part of his extracurricular activities like this but this was too easy. He thought about the old saying of looking gift horses in the mouth. Something smelled about the easy access, but Sam could handle any traces Redstone threw his way and he certainly wasn't ready to walk away from this opportunity.

As he clicked through on the first folder marked Azerbaijan, the front door to his apartment burst open, falling with dust and noise under the weight of two heavily armed men dressed in black. Sam hit the kill switch on his computer and pushed out of his chair, edging along his bookcase towards the open window in the corner.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," drawled a blonde man picking his way carefully through the splintered remains of Sam's door. He wore a spotless white dress shirt without a tie, sleeves rolled casually to his elbows as if he was coming home to relax after a tedious day of work. His three-day scruff and tousled hair gave the appearance of a college professor rather than a paramilitary squad leader. 

"These men will shoot you on sight as a traitor to this country." The blonde finally glanced at Sam with his ice blue eyes. He seemed amused at the threat.

Sam's eyes narrowed as he continued to make his way down the bookcase, fully aware of the weaponry pointed at him. "I know you. You're not with the government. You're Luke Milton. You're with Redstone. You have no authority here, to bust into my home or threaten me."

"Oh, but I do, Sam. We're partnering with the DoD to track down some ridiculous hacker who has been causing a lot of trouble for both of us. It's our civic responsibility and all that." Luke's bright eyes never left Sam as he leaned against the back of the couch, crossing his arms across his chest. "Well, I have to say I'm pleasantly surprised. Most of you hackers are small, pasty things but you look like you could hold your own in a fight. C'mon, Sam, give me a smile. You want to look pretty for your mug shot, don't you?"

Sam refused to look at the other man as the two lieutenants stepped up and put the restraints on, yanking him through the apartment. Looking at the busted door he was led through, Sam felt bad for Mrs Moss because replacing that was going to be expensive. He also felt bad for Dean. This was going to be a huge headache for his big brother working at the FBI.

Luke smirked and followed closely behind. "Sam, you don't know this yet but we are going to be such good friends."

\---

Dean sat at his desk reading printouts from his team. Something wasn't right with the current case they were working and he wasn't seeing the problem. He raised a white coffee mug to his lips only to realize the liquid had gone cold and bitter, probably hours before. As he stood up, Bobby appeared in his line of sight, cutting through the bullpen towards him. Dean grabbed the mug and made a break for the break room to get his refill before the head of their Cyber Crime division saw him.

"Dean Winchester. Stop right there." Bobby used two voices in the bullpen, sarcastic when he thought you were being stupid and commanding when he needed your immediate attention. Whatever he wanted to tell Dean, it was deadly serious.

Dean stopped in his tracks, looking down at his empty mug, and rolled his eyes before turning around. "C'mon Bobby. Can't I at least get another cup of coffee before you ream me out for whatever it is I did this time?"

Bobby's features softened. "Sure, son, get your coffee and come into my office right away."

This wasn't good. Bobby was only nice when something horrible happened and he only called Dean son when it had to do with family and that meant only one thing.

"What did Sam do now?"

\--- 

"Seriously, Bobby, tell me what Sam did." Dean licked his lips nervously, as he slid into one of the chairs in front of Bobby's desk. "Sometimes he gets a little carried away with his consulting business."

"I know you love your brother, Dean. Hell, I wish he'd come to work for us when I asked two years ago. But he's pissing off some very powerful people this time." Bobby laced his fingers behind his head as he leaned back in the desk chair. "It's Redstone."

"Shit." Dean knew that the military contractor had enlisted their division's help based on rumors that an anonymous hacker was seeking to disclose sensitive information about their operations. Redstone requested help from the Cyber Crime group to track down leads and apparently those leads led to Dean's little brother.

"Let me talk to him first. What facility is he being held at?" 

Bobby sighed. "The Bunker."

"The Bunker? You're sure he's at The Bunker?" That's not good. That means Redstone and DoD were both involved and it was something top secret, possibly black ops. "I need to see him now."

"Yeah, well, that's good because they've asked for you to join them when they interrogate Sam." Bobby looked Dean in the eye and his voice softened again. "Son, you need to be careful. What we do here, in this department, is straightforward compared to the vipers' nest between Redstone and DoD. It can get pretty dark and now your brother's involved. I know you get a little crazy when it comes to your brother but you might want to walk away, not get drug into this. Redstone and DoD. This isn't a small breach of privacy, it's national security."

"I can't do that, Bobby. You know that."

"Well, then you better get over there. Luke Milton has an offer for your brother and won't stop until he says yes."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean waited patiently with a cup of Starbucks coffee in hand as a guard in his black fatigues and heavy thigh holster slid a security badge through the reader and then held the interrogation room door open. The only indication to Dean's rising blood pressure was his index finger tapping out an erratic rhythm on the white plastic cover.

First thing he noticed when he entered the windowless room was the shackles on his little brother's wrists that ran through an eye bolt attached to the table. Second thing he noticed was the murderous look on Sam's face directed at Luke Wilson.

"Could I get a little privacy with my brother?" Dean asked Luke, nodding to another guard at the back of the room.

"Oh sure. While I'm at it, why don't I order some pasta from DelMonico's delivered for both of you? Maybe some tiramisu with that? Anything else I can do for you, Winchester?" Luke didn't move from his position leaning against the cement block wall.

Struggling to remain unfazed by the man's stare, Dean continued. "You can take off his handcuffs for starters, or perhaps you are afraid of what a 22-year-old unarmed man might do against several armed guards in a high security facility?" Dean held Luke's eyes until the latter nodded affirmatively to the guard who proceeded to unlock Sam's wrists.

"If you want cooperation, I would suggest some courtesy and that you leave the room now," Dean replied. His gut was twisting like rattlesnakes in a pit but he wasn't going to show it to this asshole.

Luke looked Sam over once more as the younger Winchester rubbed his raw wrists before peeling himself off the wall and joining the guard outside the room.

As the door shut behind them, Dean took his first opportunity to look Sam over for injuries. Besides the irritation from the restraints and a large bruise across his cheek, Sam seemed fine. Dean glanced at his face, and the murder and indignation he saw earlier in his little brother's eyes was now replaced by affection and regret. 

Dean set the coffee cup down on the table and slid it across to Sam. 

"Dean, I'm fine. Listen, I'm not sure how much time we have and I want to say that I'm sorry you got pulled into this. I never meant for that to happen. Those bastards at Redstone set me up but you have to understand about the things they're doing, someone needs to stop them..." Sam's jaw tightened as he cut short his rant. So much needed to be said but he wasn't sure where to start or who was listening. He reached for the coffee, looking away from Dean's gaze, taking a long sip off the cup.

When Sam looked back up, his blue-green eyes blazed. "They want me to work for them on a project, but I won't. I won't work with that bastard. Milton can throw me in a prison cell for the next 20 years and it won't change my mind."

"Sam..." Dean spoke softly, rubbing a hand across his mouth. Sam had a stubborn streak, even as a kid. Their dad tried to teach him to drive but it ended up with them yelling at each other in the driveway until Dean stepped in. John died shortly after that, leaving the boys to take care of each other.

"You know this is a serious situation, Sam. You're in a classified facility not a federal prison. I can't even begin to help you in here."

The door swung open and Luke walked over to the table and grabbed the chair next to Dean, flipping it around and straddling it.

"Are you all done with the brotherly bonding? Good, because now we can get down to business. Sam will be charged with treason tomorrow morning."

Sam jumped up from the table, running his hand through his hair. "This is entrapment."

"Trust me, our proof is undeniable. You crossed that line and accessed our servers with highly classified information about our consulting work with the military abroad. No one put a gun to your head while you did it." Luke smiled as he watched Sam pace the room with heavy lidded eyes.

"Your consulting work? Oh, you mean assassinations of third-world leaders who are inconvenient or causing obstacles? Is that the work you mean?" Sam slammed the flat of his hand on the table in front of Luke without any reaction from the man.

"What can we do about the treason charges?" Dean interrupted the two of them. "How do we make it go away? We wouldn't be here if you didn't want something from him."

"It's very simple. Sam helps us with a project and we make sure the charges are dropped." Luke's eyes never left Sam's face.

"No, not a chance. I'd rather go to prison," Sam said.

"You've made that perfectly clear, princess, but what about Dean? Would you rather than he lose his job and go to prison as well?" Sam's brow contracted and he pulled away from Milton and this new threat.

"What? What are you talking about?" Dean's calm demeanor vanished. "I didn't do anything wrong."

Luke rolled his shoulders like a boxer preparing for a prize fight. "Really? We found indications that the two of you were communicating right before Sammy broke through that last firewall. Suspicious timing, wouldn't you say? I'm sure that if we chose to examine your computers and files more closely, we will find evidence of your collusion. Let's face it, there were many times before that you helped your little brother out of a jam so you knew what he was up to and at best, chose to ignore it, and at worst, provided him information. It's a shame too, Dean, since you had such a bright future with the Bureau. Poor Bobby Singer. His golden boy discredited. I'm sure that won't do much for his career either."

Sam moved quick as a snake, grabbing Luke's bicep and pulling him out of his seat and up against the wall before the guard grabbed him, throwing him across the room.

"Sam! Sam, stop. Whatever he has set up, there is nothing you and I can do right now." Dean licked his lips, trying to regain the calm that he projected when he walked in the room. "Ok, Milton, what's your game? What do you want?"

"I want both of the Winchester brothers to work for me. We're going to be bunk buddies for the next few weeks."


	3. Chapter 3

As little boys, Dean and Sam shared a bedroom. Their father John put two twin beds in the room, one on each side, and wondered how long it would take before Dean would want his own room, far away from an annoying little brother. A few days later, he was surprised to see the beds moved together with the heads of each bed in a corner, forming a V along the outer walls. A night light that John didn't remember buying found its way to the little nightstand in the corner between their heads and he briefly wondered if Sam was afraid of the dark.

As Luke walked into the open control room in the center of the Bunker the day after reaching an agreement with the Winchesters, he noticed how the two back-to-back partner desks that were rearranged to form a V with Sam on the right and Dean on the left with the two of them sitting shoulder to shoulder, able to glance at each others' monitors or reach something on the other's desk. A small lamp emitted a golden radius that reached across Sam's keyboard. Luke looked up, noticing for the first time that the white fluorescent light bulb above Sam's workstation was disconnected.

"Why don't you just make yourselves at home?" he murmured, as the brothers ignored him.

Luke walked to the front of Sam's desk and placed his palms on the desktop, hovering over the hacker like a predatory cat over a fishbowl. "Do you have everything you need, princess?" 

When Sam didn't respond or look up at him, Luke snapped his fingers inches in front of his face. "You think this act is cute? The fact is that you will give me a progress report every two hours. Isn't that right, Dean? I'm counting on you to keep your girl in line."

"Well, it would help if you let us get to it, jackass." They were only on Day One and already Dean wanted to punch the guy in the face.

"See you in two hours then." Luke strolled back out through the single open hallway that led away from the control room. An armed guard stood about ten feet down the hall, outside a make-shift bedroom consisting of two cots with matching blankets. The guard was close enough to keep an eye on them but far enough away to maintain the classified nature of the project.

Dean glanced over his shoulder at his brother, whose head had dropped down between his shoulders with his long brown hair hanging like a curtain. His brother was shutting down under the attention and threat of Luke Milton, and shutting down was not Sam's MO. 

He was always tough and stubborn even as a child. Trying to teach the kid to drive was a nightmare for their father. John and Sam hadn't stepped foot in the car for the first lesson before they were yelling at each other in the driveway. Dean heard them, along with most of the neighborhood, and came running, offering to handle the lessons going forward. Sam learned best when left to figure it out on his own, not by command with a list of do's and don't's.

Unfortunately, John never had a chance to figure out his youngest boy. Their father died from an aneurysm later that week. Sam was 15 and a freshman in high school and Dean was 18, finishing up his senior year in high school. Their life could have easily fallen apart at John's death but it didn't, thanks to Dean. The older brother applied to become Sam's guardian and paid off the house with his father's insurance proceeds. Of all the colleges he was accepted to, he chose nearby John Hopkins, receiving special dispensation to live at home his first year. He helped his brother with homework and taught him to make macaroni and cheese and scrambled eggs. When Sam became obsessed with lacrosse for three months and failed to make the school team, he forced Dean to practice with him every night for two weeks. He willed himself to become a good player even though tryouts were over and he never picked up a stick again. It wasn't in his nature to shut down. 

"C'mon Sam," Dean said quietly, "Let's get this done and get you out of here as quickly as possible." 

\---

Bobby was the one who first suggested that Dean study computer engineering. Bobby and John had known each other for years and while Dean never asked for help after John's death, Bobby watched out for the boys. Dean took to computers like an otter to the ocean. His analytical mind did exceptionally well with structural work, understanding how to create systems with a solid and flexible foundation on which to build programming. It's what made him perfect for his work when he joined Bobby at the FBI upon graduation. Because he excelled at building systems, Dean had an amazing knack for dismantling them and the work they did at the FBI around cyber forensics. 

Sam was never far behind. At 16, he would listen to Dean talk about his classes and ask questions. He would read the college text books and study over Dean's shoulder at the computer monitor. Within months, Dean bought a second computer for Sam and they sat side by side. Where Dean excelled at the structural side of programming, Sam was adept at theory. He had flashes of creativity, these leaps of thought that would generate unexpected results.

This ability was what brought him to the attention of one of the highest profile professors at Georgetown during his junior year of college. Azazel was charismatic and published and the students and media referred to him by a single name like some kind of rock star or model. If the rumors were true, he worked on high profile projects with various government agencies. Each quarter, he took one of his students under his wing as an intern and that year, his eye fell upon Sam.

Sam was thrilled and Dean was proud. Then it all went to hell.

Dean didn't know exactly what happened that quarter and Sam never talked about it. While Dean was travelling on several assignments in his new role for the Cyber Crimes division, Sam began to withdraw and become moody as he worked with Azazel on a project. He couldn't disclose the details of the project to Dean due to a non-disclosure agreement that was signed. Sam would have gladly bent those rules but Dean's work with the FBI made him particularly sensitive to issues of security, and shook off any attempts by his little brother to talk about his work. Instead, Sam became more and more angry and eventually quit the project, quit Azazel's mentorship and quit school with only two semesters to go.

Two years later and Sam still didn't talk about it. Now, here in the Bunker's control room, Dean saw the same anger in Sam. While he hated Azazel for whatever changed Sam that year, there was nothing he could do about it now. With Luke Milton, he would make sure to watch out for Sam.

The devil himself strolled into the room as Dean was leaning into the small refrigerator in the corner, grabbing the creamer for his coffee. Dean's eye scanned the rows of Red Bulls on the shelf and snatched one for his brother. Someone certainly knew Sam's preferences.

Day Two working in the bunker and Dean's need to punch Luke Milton only grew as the man walked over to their desks. Sitting in Dean's chair, he wheeled it over to Sam, close enough to breathe in his ear. He nodded over his shoulder at the monitor."How are you doing this morning? Any closer to getting the issue resolved?" 

The issue was that Redstone's attempted hacks into armed enemy drones in the Middle East wasn't working. They wanted to reprogram them mid-flight sending them to a new target and all they had done so far was be able to disarm them and have them fall harmlessly to the ground. Harmless was not what Redstone was looking for. 

Sam sat stone faced, ignoring the intrusion and not responding to the questions. "Sam, all that time alone in your apartment has not taught you how to play well with others. I'm a first class trainer so don't make me break you like a puppy who hasn't learn to piss on the newspaper."

Sam flipped his chair around at that. "I'm not your dog, Milton."

"Make no mistake, Sam, you are mine," Luke said, leaning back in the chair and planting his foot on the seat of Sam's chair between his legs. Sam seemed frozen by the aggressive move into his space.

"Get out of my chair now, Milton." Luke's amused blue eyes swung around to meet Dean's angry green ones. "If you want this done quickly then leave my brother alone." 

Those icy blues went wide and innocent and his hands went up in mock surrender as he stood up. "I want nothing more than his full cooperation and success on this project, Dean."

Watching Luke's back as he left the room, Dean wondered what full cooperation really meant.They had no choice but to submit.

As Dean turned around, Sam's hazel eyes looked up at him but not with the anger he expected after the last outburst but with something that looked like determination.

"Dean, I need to show you something," Sam said quietly, glancing at the hallway where the guard stood following Milton's departure. The man hadn't moved from his post, probably used to that type of reaction to his boss.

"Something is not adding up. We're supposed to be working on the solution for remote access of these armed drones, right? To hijack control mid-air and send it to another target."

Dean nodded and handed Sam the Red Bull he pulled from the fridge. The problem they were solving for was two-fold. The first was time. The speed of these drones meant that a team would need to be alerted quickly when they were launched and then there was a short window for making changes to new coordinates. 

The second issue was control. Previous attempts by Luke's team resulted in the droids crashing once they hacked in, and they wanted to take control of them, direct them away from populated areas.

Sam pulled up another menu on his monitor. "Last night, I noticed something odd about the serial numbers and manufacturers and pulled up the original requisitions."

"Sam, what is this?" Dean hissed between his teeth. "We want to get this damn project done and get out of here. Now you're accessing other classified government records. We don't this trouble right now."

"Exactly! These drones are not being operated by some foreign government or terrorist organization. They are referenced in our own government records. Please, Dean, listen to me. These are ours. These are American."

Dean looked more closely at the records displayed and saw that sure enough, they were U.S. military drones. "Maybe they were stolen or hijacked?"

"They weren't reported as stolen or missing. Can't you see, Dean? Redstone is using us to hack into our own military's weapons to use them for their own purposes. They will use us to do it off the books for Redstone and not involve DoD directly. It gives everyone involved plausible deniability. They can hijack those drones and every one would assume it's an outside terrorist group or they blame it on a rogue hacker who wants to cause chaos." 

Sam turned to look at Dean, his eyes pleading. "Dean, I know that you don't like my methods and you probably won't believe me but please listen. I was checking into Redstone before I was brought in by Milton. Those Senate intelligence committee meetings a few months ago investigating them and their possible involvement in unsanctioned political assassinations? It was all true, but they just didn't have the proof they needed. Redstone wasn't just eliminating terrorist targets for our government but trying to shape local elections by erasing candidates or advocates that were blocking their agenda in some way. Killing people who weren't terrorists, just inconvenient. Now, we are helping them to do this remotely, using our own weapons."

Dean looked again at Sam's screen as he contemplated this. Sam was right. These were U.S. military equipment, being operated in the Middle East and all of them still showed as fully active.

"I would have believed you, Sam. You should have just told me," he said resting his hand on Sam's shoulder.

Sam shook his hand off. "No, you wouldn't have. You would have tried to do the right thing and reported it up through channels and in the meantime, Redstone would bury the information even deeper." Now, all of Sam's anger and the distance he put between them in the last two years surfaced.

Dean glanced at the guard in the hallway, who hadn't noticed the argument between the brothers yet. "I need to get this to Bobby. He will know someone who can help us."

"No!" Sam slapped the top of his desk so loudly with his palm which finally startled the guard away from his position on the wall. 

Sam saw Dean's look of concern and turned around quickly, waving the guard off. He moved over to the refrigerator and grabbed a Red Bull with his back to Dean.

"Fucking older brothers, always think they're right." Sam threw out the comment to the guard who relaxed and rolled his eyes, assuming his old position. The guard and his counterpart on the night shift had witnessed their share of disagreements already with the Winchester brothers and they were only 48 hours into this job.

"You always have to follow the rules, don't you Dean?" Sam whispered under his breath as he moved back to his seat, eyes blazing. "In order to shut Redstone down permanently, we need to go public and we need to go big."

"Sam, this isn't the X Files. Not everyone is in on the conspiracy. There are good people at the FBI who would help us. First things first. We need to get out of here."

No external electronic communication or phone lines were available to them. No way to reach Bobby directly. Dean rapped his fingers on the desktop and stared at the armed guard down the hall who would be switching out with the next shift in about two hours, coinciding with Luke Millton's next check-in.

"Sam, remember my senior year Calculus mid-term?" Sam pushed his hair away from his face and turned to Dean with a smile on his face. That could work.


	4. Chapter 4

The plan was a solid one. They had another hour before Milton's return so Dean retreated to their temporary "bedroom" off the control room to catch up on some badly-needed sleep while Sam figured out how to save the documents they would need to show Bobby. The encrypted laptop was a challenge but Sam would manage it.

As Dean drifted off, he thought of his last year in high school. The brothers were still working through their dad's death from a few months before and Dean was trying to keep up his grades up and earn college credits for some of his advanced classes, while balancing out the need to take care of their house and Sam. At 18, Dean had to grow up quickly. 

He broke under the stress only once. Dean was so busy dealing with their dad's estate and learning about mortgages and guardianships that he forgot about a Calculus mid-term. As they pulled up to school that morning, he had a full-blown panic attack in the car in front of his little brother. 

Forty five minutes later, Dean sat sweating in his first period home room, cramming for the exam the following period, when he was urgently summoned over the loud speaker to the front office. Sam was being loaded into an ambulance at the front of the school and being sent to the hospital with what they thought was an acute appendectomy. The principal knew the situation with the boys and assured Dean that he would take care of rescheduling his exams. Dean sprinted out the door to his car and to this day, he didn't remember that drive to the hospital behind the ambulance. What he remembered was the pained look on Sam's face, laying in the hospital bed, sweaty and scrunched in pain. As he leaned in to brush the hair back off his face, Sam looked up with a sly smile and a whisper. 

"It's ok, Dean, really. They cancelled your mid-term today, right? Now you'll have plenty of time to study."

He wasn't sure if he wanted to slap his little brother for lying or hug him in relief. Either way, Dean studied for the mid-term and walked away with a perfect score the next day while Sam "recovered" on the living room couch with a bag of Doritos and a Star Wars marathon.

\---

The sound of crashing in the control room jerked Dean out of his light sleep. Yanking the door open, he noticed that the night guard posted in the hall was gone. As Dean ran into the main room, he saw was blood running down his little brother's face and his shirt sleeve ripped at the shoulder, towering over Luke Wilson who lay on the floor in a bloody mess.

"Oh god, what happened, Sam? Where's the guard?"

Sam turned towards Dean and the anger and shock was clear on his face. He pointed down to Milton, unconscious with blood pooling on the floor from his broken nose. "He sent the guard away. Should have known that the son of a bitch had something planned. Told me that I had to do what he said if I wanted to protect you. The fucking bastard tried to touch me. He doesn't get to touch me anymore. Nobody does."

Sam was practically incoherent in his anger. Looking at Luke's body, Dean thought the man got away easy with his brother breaking his nose and beating him senseless. Dean would have killed Milton. Sam's face crumpled, changing from an avenging warrior to a scared child in the blink of an eye. Is this what happened with Azazel as well? Is this the secret that derailed Sam's life when he was 20 years old? Dean assumed that it had to do with the classified work or some social inequity but never thought that it might be because of something more insidious.

Dean grabbed Sam's arm, frantically searching his wide eyes for some reconnection to the reality of the situation. "Looks like our Plan A to get out of here is gone. We need a Plan B." 

He knelt next to Luke and went through his suit coat, removing his key card and wallet and handing both to Sam. He looked at Milton's shoulder harness twice before grabbing the gun there. Sam in the meantime stepped over to his desk and grabbed a storage drive and the encrypted laptop, yanking the power cord out of the wall with it. They moved down the hallway, listening for the guard's footsteps but it looked like Luke had him leave this wing for privacy. Dean swiped the key card through several secured doors before sunshine poured in through the last one. The daylight was disconcerting after the gloom of the Bunker's control room.

Sam broke into a run towards a generic white maintenance truck not far from where they emerged. The back of the truck was filled with shovels and rakes and two flats of cheap gazanias. A bit of luck that someone was landscaping the medians of the roads that led around the building's sprawling campus. Dean jumped in the truck and immediately checked the visor for keys. A secure facility like this - why would the workers be concerned about their truck being stolen? The keys fell into his lap while Sam jumped in the passenger seat and immediately began to rummage in the space behind the seats.

"Guess we may need to ram the security gate to get out," Dean said. 

"I think we'll be alright," Sam smiled, pulling out two ball caps with a maintenance company logo on the front and lightweight khaki twill jackets.

Dean smiled at Sam and pulled the cap low over his eyes, with Milton's key card ready on the seat.

\---

The Bunker was located in a remote area of Maryland about 90 miles out from Washington D.C. and was built under an old mental hospital that was shut down. Rumor had it that the facility was haunted and there were big signs posted on the buildings and fence that the property was condemned. If people thought it odd that there were 24-hour guards in place for a haunted old asylum, no one really said. As they sped away, Dean was glad to see the decrepit white building grow smaller in their rear view mirror. 

"Let's take a few of these backroads to get back to DC. I'll stop in about 30 minutes. We can grab a bite to eat and call Bobby."

Sam took off the cap and scowled at Dean. "Bobby won't help. I'm a fugitive traitor who has now drug his brother into this mess, potentially ruining your bright shiny career at the FBI. I'm the last person Bobby would help, even if he believed me."

"That's not true, Sam. Once we explain to Bobby, show him the evidence, he will find a way to help us. He just needs to know the truth about what Redstone is doing."

Sam shook his head and looked out the window where a light rain had started. "Dean, such a do-gooder. Following the rules and going through channels gets you nowhere. It certainly got me nowhere fast." 

"You've never followed the rules, Sammy. How would you know?"

Sam swiveled back to Dean, the hurt look in his eyes was too much. "You didn't believe me when I tried to talk before." 

Dean threw his brother an equally hurt and confused look across the truck cab. "What do you mean, Sam? I was always there for you, Sam. You could tell me anything so what truth you're talking about? You're the one that chose to hide everything you do from me." 

"Wasn't hiding anything. I just realized that you can't always be there to protect me, that sometimes it's up to me to do that. I let myself be taken advantage of but I'm sure as hell not going to let that happen now. I love Bobby too but the only person I'm going to trust to get me out of this mess is me."

Sam fell silent and Dean tried to be patient and wait for more of the story. Sam's words about trust wounded him badly after all the time he spent looking out for his little brother. Yet whatever caused Sam to feel this way happened under Dean's nose. Anger and inadequacy wrestled in Dean's mind and neither came out a winner. Despite his patience, he realized that Sam wasn't going to say any more right now. They drove on until a small diner attached to a sad looking motel appeared on the right side of the road, 

Dean pulled into the parking lot and turned off the truck. "You hungry, Sam?"

"No but I'm tired. Could we grab a room for a few hours? I haven't slept much the last few days and could really use it before we get back to D.C. We're far enough off the beaten path here not to be noticed."

"Sure. Just pay with cash, not credit cards, ok?"

Sam returned Dean's comment with a look that would freeze water and snatched up the laptop on the seat next to him, climbing out of the truck and walking into the motel's dingy office. Dean took a deep breath as he watched him and then headed into the diner.


	5. Chapter 5

As he sat over his coffee and eggs, he mulled the best way to approach Bobby and what information they would need to bring down Redstone. The FBI had a wary relationship with DoD and by extension the military contractor and he knew that several of the Deputy Directors would love an opportunity to take them down. It was a matter of who they talked to and what they could show them. The evidence from the encrypted laptop would be crucial. He glanced at his watch and saw that it had been about 90 minutes since they left the Bunker. Luke Wilson was probably awake, resetting his nose and suffering from a concussion as a result of Sam's attack. Search teams were probably deployed so it was time to gather their own reinforcements. He picked up his cell phone and dialed Bobby.

"Boy, what have you and your brother gotten yourselves into now?" the older man's gruff voice cut across the line.

"Bobby, I can't talk for long but this is big. Redstone's project is all a front and we have proof. Where can we meet you to talk in person?" Dean looked up as three black SUVs drove by and he cut the call short. "I have to go right now but we will be back in D.C. in 30 minutes or less."

The SUVs seemed to have driven by but Dean threw some cash on the table and made his way out of the diner quickly, scanning the quiet parking lot and road. He stopped by the office to get the room number where Sam was, and the young girl behind the counter giggled.

"Tell that cute brother of yours that I'm sorry about the wifi in the room. We're out in the middle of nowhere here so I'm not sure how he thinks he's going to get a signal."

Dean leapt out the office door and ran across the parking lot. What the fuck was Sam doing? He should have known that his brother would be up to something and not willing to wait. Talk about being blinded by trust. 

As he threw open the flimsy wooden door, he saw Sam seated on the garish paisley bedspread the encrypted laptop open in front of him with his face reflecting the blue light of the screen. It recalled so many nights at home when Dean would walk into Sam's room to tell him to shut it down and go to bed.

Sam looked up as his brother slammed the door behind him but didn't stop what he was doing. "Dean, just give me a minute. It's almost done."

"What's almost done, Sam? What the hell did you do? We agreed to wait to do anything until we talked to Bobby." Dean ran a hand across his three-day old stubble in frustration.

"We didn't agree to anything, Dean. You said we were going to Bobby. I'm taking this public right now. I sent the file to a good friend of mine who is a reporter at The Post. We are going to break Redstone wide open so that the government can't cover up their activities any longer." Sam's face broke into a grin which only faltered as he looked up at the disbelief on Dean's face.

"You don't think they're going to track this? We need to get out of here right now." Dean grabbed for his little brother's arm to pull him out of the the room as Sam twisted away.

"Relax, Dean. Turns out the laptop had internal wireless and it's encrypted, remember? They can't track it from here." Sam closed the cover of the computer and shook loose of his brother's grip.

"Sam, you don't think that they are tracking all of your friends? All of your acquaintances? Especially reporters or hackers? Those are the first ones they would look at. That laptop probably has a tracker that we didn't find. Or Redstone could be looking for wireless signals where there aren't any towers nearby? There are a million ways that they could track us."

Sam started to tuck the laptop under his arm when the motel room door exploded inwards. He and Dean tried scrambling over the bed towards the bathroom door when three men in the dark paramilitary fatigues broke in. One grabbed Dean's leg, dragging him back onto the bed. Sam almost made it to the bathroom when a second man tackled him into the wall, knocking him onto the ground. The laptop flew out of his hands and was picked up by the third man in black.

Once again, Sam heard that hateful voice as a fourth man entered. "C'mon, Sam, you didn't think it was going to be that easy to leave, did you?"

He looked up into Luke's icy blue eyes. A bandage covered the cut over his left eye and another one wrapped over the bridge of his nose with a nasty bruise across the cheek below it. Despite being pinned to the ground by Luke's man, Sam's eyes shone with victory.

"You're too late, asshole. I already sent the information that's needed to bust Redstone wide open and there's nothing you can do to stop it. Go ahead, throw me in jail. It won't do you any good."

"Oh, I'm not going to throw you in jail, Sam. You're coming with me and I don't plan to let you go this time. And your plan to take this information public? I hope you don't mean your friend Jake at the Post? Was that who you contacted?" Luke smiled sardonically down at Sam. "Jake agreed to help us out if you reached out in exchange for his own freedom. Funny how much people turn on you when you threaten their family members with treason and a lifetime in jail. Guess you need to have the right friends and know the right buttons to push to get them to do what you want. Don't worry, Sam, you're going to love working with me."

Sam's face collapsed and tears threatened to spill from his eyes as he turned his face towards Dean. Their eye contact lasted only a few seconds before the man holding him down yanked him up and began to put restraints on his wrists.

"Put him in my car and we'll sedate him." It took both of the other guards to pull Sam towards the door as he tried to head butt and kick them. "Put his brother in your car and then two of you will take him to the FBI facility in Quantico." 

"No, no, Milton, I stay with Sam. I go wherever Sam goes, that was our agreement." Dean pulled against his own guard as if drawn like a magnet to Sam outside. He could see them in the parking lot pulling a black bag out of the back seat of the SUV. At the sight of it, Sam doubled his efforts, shouting for Dean.

Luke stopped to consider Dean coolly. "Our agreement was null and void the minute the two of you stepped foot outside the Bunker today. No, you'll go back to the FBI and Sam comes with me. You might still have a career but you'll never see your brother again."

Anger rose in Dean like he had never felt before but he was too late. It was now quiet in the parking lot as the two men finished shutting the back door to the SUV. Sam was nowhere in sight.

"You son of a bitch! You hurt my brother and I'm going to kill you."

"See, that's the thing Dean. How I treat him is all up to you. If you're a good boy and do what you're told by the FBI and stay far away from Redstone, then your brother will be treated like a prince. You come after me or the firm and I will put him in chains somewhere you will never find him. It's that simple."

With that, Luke left the room and jumped in the back seat of the first SUV. In the dome light, Dean thought he saw a head of brown hair slumped against the seat and then it went dark again and the car was gone.

\---

The Cyber Crimes bullpen outside his office was quiet at this hour as Dean looked over reports from his team. They were working to unravel the online financials of a drug cartel doing business through Miami. He made a few notes on the spreadsheets although the team seemed to be moving ahead efficiently without his direction.

A knock brought his head up to see Bobby standing in the doorway. "What can I do for you, Bobby?"

The older man walked in, watching Dean's face intently. "I'm just checking on you, boy. It's been three weeks and you haven't said much. I'm worried about you."

Dean turned back to the report on his desk, his jaw clenching. "What is there to say, Bobby?"

"You need to know that I'm checking every resource I have to find him, Dean, but we have to be discreet. I know this must be killing you. There may not be much to go on now, but I haven't given up and you shouldn't either."

Dean covered up his mouth with his hand to stop the angry words that were waiting to burst out. Bobby had been great to him since his return. The agreement for his work on "the project" with Redstone had been terminated without any repercussions to his career and the firm had no ongoing ties with the Bureau at this time. It was as if nothing had happened. Except for Sam.

 

No one really cared where Sam had been taken, except Dean. He was a stupid black hat hacker who had been absorbed by a government affiliate for the good of everyone.

"Sure, Bobby, I know." Dean gave his boss a tight lipped smile.

"Ok. Please talk to me if you need something or before you do anything reckless for your brother." Bobby's eyes softened. "You know I love that boy too. I'm sure he'll surface again."

Dean nodded and went back to reading until Bobby left. He stood up and closed the frosted glass door to his office. As he returned to his desk, Dean leaned over and unlocked the bottom desk drawer, pulling out a thick file and throwing it on top of the reports that littered his desktop. He also reached into the same drawer to pull out a small flask and take a long pull off the whisky inside.

The name on the file was Azazel. Dean stared at it for a few minutes before opening it. He didn't doubt Luke Milton's threats about what would happen to Sam if he investigated Redstone or Sam's whereabouts. Instead, he researched what he missed the first time Sam was hurt.

Dean had been in training at Quantico when Sam became Azazel's research associate on a project at the end of his sophomore year of college. Azazel was well known, even received a cover story from Time magazine about the influence of his work, how the fluidity of his programming design would change industrial applications. The media called him the architect of intelligent design, touting it as AI without the possible downside of sentient machines. Dean remembered Sam laughing about the Terminator movies and how people were frightened about the wrong things in their future.

At that time, Dean didn't worry too much about Sam as he headed off for a four-month training program. Sam was an adult and would have this research project to keep him busy. In fact, he was happy that this would give him something to show his skills off without being in the shadow of his older brother.

They didn't talk much during that time due to their conflicting schedules and the classified nature of Sam's project. Dean assumed that his brother would tell him if anything was wrong.

He looked at the file on the top of his desk and carefully opened it as if it could bite him.

The first page had a picture of Azazel, with his handsome features and broad charismatic smile that showed too many teeth like a shark before a meal. From what Dean could gather, Azazel only brought in the best and the brightest students as his research associates. Typically they were seniors or juniors but on a rare occasion, he would enlist sophomores like Sam who were exceptional. At the time, Dean was so proud of Sam. Now the thought just made him sick.

Azazel was sued by a former colleague who alleged that he stole and took credit for one of his theories. It was covered up by the university but that was the point where he began to work exclusively with students as his associates, those who would take his direction and would be glad to contribute their ideas to the master.

If that was the only issue, Dean was sure that Sam felt he was able to handle Azazel. No one was more outspoken and stubborn than his little brother.

Dean ran his hand down the second page in the open file which showed a student ID photo of a young man, good looking with long dark hair and dimples. William Beckman was a year older than Sam and had become one of Azazel's students about six months before Sam joined the program. He was the only one who had filed suit against his professor, not for theft of intellectual property but for sexual harassment. Again, the university tried to protect one of their most famous and tenured faculty members, keeping it quiet and forcing Will to deal with the situation within the school's jurisdiction rather than in criminal court. It seemed that Will was threatening to take it all public when he died from an unfortunate house fire on campus. 

There was no proof as to Azazel's guilt around these accusations or any involvement in the student's death. The university destroyed all the underlying documentation as part of their privacy policy, and Azazel left the university a few years ago to pursue a lucrative position at a private security company.

What had happened to Sam during that time? What had Dean missed during his four months away? He struggled to remember some hint from Sam that something was wrong and all he could recall was a few drunken calls from his brother in the middle of the night. Dean was exhausted from the training and Sam wasn't making any sense. He told him to sober up and call him back in the morning.

Dean turned around at his desk to pull a single sheet of paper off his small printer sitting on the credenza. He punched two holes in the top of the sheet and added it to the top of the open file, reading over the headline again.

"Azazel Leaves Academia Behind To Join Redstone As Consultant."

He shut the file and put it back in the locked drawer in his desk. This was how Dean was going to find Sam.


End file.
